True Blue Christmas
by wobbear
Summary: A CSI Christmas fairytale.


**True Blue Christmas**

**Author **wobbear  
**Rating **general/K  
**Pairing **Grissom/Sara  
**Disclaimer **Would anyone actually connected with CSI write this? Fuhgeddaboutit.  
**Author's note **I dedicate this to the lovely **microgirl/csifan8225**, whose delightful _Holiday Spark_ made me want to write a Christmas fic. She unwittingly helped me out with the title too, heh.  
I blame the story idea on Harry Connick Jr's version of _The Happy Elf_, which seems to have been playing on a loop in my house, and my head, recently. Sadly, the elf idea got a little warped in the writing. Sorry this turned out so weird, but Merry Christmas anyway!

**Summary **A CSI Christmas fairytale.

* * *

Once upon a time in Las Vegas 'twas a few nights before Christmas 2009 …

*BLEEP* *BLEEP* *BLEEP* *BLEEP* ― "Damn … what's Ecklie up to? I was planning to split as soon shift is over. If not before. Gotta make a start on Lindsey's Christmas list. Hmph. This better not take long."

XXXXXXXXX

*vrrrr* *vrrrr* *vrrrr* ― "Argh … How come I never get used to that? Can't decide what's worse, the feeling of sudden indigestion when the bleeper vibrates on my belly, or the fact that I'm being paged yet again … Huh. 'All grave shift personnel report to CSI break room at end of shift. No exceptions.' That's for CSIs, so why'd I get it?"

*vrrrr* *vrrrr* *vrrrr* ― " 'That means you too, Brass. Please.' What the … Ecklie saying 'please'? Now that's a first. Okay, I'm officially intrigued. Still, he's lucky it's been a quiet night."

XXXXXXXXX

*beepbeepbeep* *beepbeepbeep* *beepbeepbeep* ― "Here's hoping something juicy is gonna take me away from this evidence free-zone … Back to the lab? Doesn't sound promising. Better than a triple-shift scene though." *yawn* "An early night would be good right now. Alrighty, CSI Sanders packing up and heading back to base."

" 'Alrighty'? I must be more tired than I realized."

XXXXXXXXX

Sara slammed the driver's door of the lab Denali shut – it was the one with the defective latch – and stalked into the lab building. Ecklie had been almost human since her return, and seeing as how she'd done him a big favor, stepping into the breach, she had hoped it would last.

Apparently not.

His brusque page, requiring all grave shift staff to gather in the break room at the end of their "day", made it seem like he was back to his bitchy bureaucratic self. No matter — in this new iteration of working in Vegas, Sara had a firm grip on what she needed, and that meant not taking any crap from Ecklie, or anyone else. She knew what was good for her, and a vital part of it would be waiting for her when she got home. However, that didn't stop her being pissed at his peremptory demand.

After a pit stop, Sara made her way to the break room and was amused to see Nick literally falling out the door, apparently in hysterics.

He'd been taking his new role as assistant supervisor very seriously, but sometimes the fun-loving Texan in him could not be tamed.

"Uh, Nick …" Sara dragged him over so he could lean, doubled over, against the wall of the corridor, and waited for the laughter to subside. Gradually Nick calmed down and he gulped more oxygen into his protesting lungs.

Meanwhile Sara surveyed the assembled throng through the glass walls.

The break room looked … a little odd.

First there was the diminutive, but heavily decorated, artificial Christmas tree in the corner, twinkling with red and white LEDs donated by the lab techs. When asked, Henry had said, "Well, it's red for blood and white for … light." How Christmassy, she thought. The fact those strings of lights had been on sale for next to nothing at Walmart had probably been the deciding factor in color choice, but she'd kept her own counsel.

Sitting over in the corner by the drinks machine was a bearded man, clad in a familiar red and white costume, with what could well be a pillow adding to his stomach girth. "Red and white, for blood and light" came back to her. A floppy red Santa hat with white furry trim was pulled low over his face; that and the flowing white beard made his features impossible to discern. White gloves and black boots completed the ensemble.

Suddenly Sara had a thought, and beckoned the assistant coroner out of the crowd into the hallway. As usual, he pinkened adorably in her presence. Marriage doesn't really change people, she reflected: at best it makes them more themselves. "Hi there, Dave. Is your esteemed leader going to be joining us?"

"Uh … no … uh, hi, Sara … I mean, yes, he hopes to, but he's waiting at the morgue to show a body to cousins of his wife – they think it may be their wayward son, and he wanted to be with them …" He shrugged, smiling faintly, and Sara nodded, understanding completely.

Sara pointed in the direction of Santa. "So … that's definitely not him?"

David nodded, more confident than usual. "Nope, can't be."

"Huh." Sara nodded vaguely and turned back to Nick, who by now had straightened himself up and was wiping tears of laughter from his cheeks. "Hey, you okay?"

Nick slowly sucked in and exhaled another couple of deep breaths, and finally spoke. "Yeah. I--I'm fine. It's just … not a sight you see every day. Never … until today."

"I'm not getting it," Sara admitted, confused. Yes, there was quite the crowd in the break room but nothing so funny that― "OOOH-MII-GOD. Please, _please_, tell me my eyes are deceiving me."

"Sara, I can't look. I've only just recovered." Nick chuckled as he spoke, giving the lie to his words. "But if you think you're seeing Ecklie in a green tunic and leggings and sporting a red hat with a bell on the end, it is all too true." He clamped his hand over his eyes to avoid seeing the sight again. "Wait, wait, I forgot the long red boots with turny-uppy toes. With bells on." He collapsed into a fit of hysterical giggles, sliding down the wall until he was sitting on the floor.

Sara shook her head as she gazed on the shocking sight. Nick's description was scarily accurate. She was transfixed for a moment by the knobbly knees of the Undersheriff until she dragged her eyes away, feeling slightly queasy.

She took a deep breath and scanned the rest of the crowd. Ray was deep in discussion with David Phillips, Hodges looked like he was trying to flirt with Wendy, and then she noticed Brass waving at her as he approached down the hallway.

He glanced at Nick, who was still on the floor, his legs splayed wide with one hand pressed to his stomach and the other wiping tears of laughter from his cheeks. Brass shook his head and murmured, "I don't want to know." Raising an eyebrow at her, he asked, "So, Sara, any idea why we're all here?"

Sara began, "No―" only to be interrupted by Ecklie clapping his hands and calling for silence.

"Conrad, you shouldn't have," mumbled Brass sotto voce. "Really, I wish you hadn't."

Sara offered her hand to Nick and hoisted him to his feet, and they gathered with Brass just inside the break room door while Ecklie glared at several people who were clearly cracking up at his outfit. Soon everyone had settled down and was looking expectantly at Ecklie.

"Uh …" The normally confident, many would say arrogant, Ecklie started out hesitantly.

Sara snickered to herself; wearing an elf suit could do that to person.

He glanced down at a crumpled sheet of paper and tried again. "I, uh, a benefactor who wishes to remain anonymous has donated Christmas gifts for the entire graveyard shift. And, uh, he clearly knows the right people as Santa here has come to distribute said gifts." Ecklie paused and looked down at Santa, who was sitting on the small couch at the side of the break room with a large lumpy hessian sack beside him.

Sara though she caught a hint of desperation in Ecklie's eyes, and she saw one corner of Santa's mouth ever so slightly turn up, before the bearded man slowly nodded and Ecklie scowled. Visibly gathering himself, the scariest-ever Elf continued, "So, thank you, Mr Claus."

Ecklie looked up from his paper at the assembled group, some of whom were giggling, others bemused. Hodges, of course, was tapping his foot impatiently. Ecklie referred again to the notes and added, "Unfortunately, Mr Claus has laryngitis."

The man in question tried to clear his throat and waved feebly towards his neck.

"And so he has asked me to help with the gift distribution."

Sara rolled her eyes. It was all very bizarre, but apparently harmless and a small naughty part of her was enjoying seeing Ecklie squirm.

Did "Santa" have video of Ecklie in a compromising situation? That was a sickening thought in itself. But she couldn't fathom any other reason why the Undersheriff would be humiliating himself this way.

Brass seemed to be thinking along similar lines, whispering in her ear. "Okay, this is a total set-up, but what, or who, could get him to do this?"

"So, uh, when I read your name out, please come forward to collect your gift." As Ecklie moved closer to Santa, the bells on his hat and feet tinkled merrily.

The quiet man in red and white swept the room with his eyes before delving into his sack and handing a stylishly-wrapped parcel to his elf, who fished out a pair of readers from somewhere and peered presbyopically at the tiny card attached to the lavish bow. "Ray, you seem to be topping the bill."

Ray Langston appeared to be fighting to keep a straight face as he took his gift, but solemnly shook Ecklie and Santa's hands before retreating.

"Okay … next is …David … um, H, David Hodges, step up."

The trace specialist looked startled to be called so soon, but quickly recovered his cocky demeanor and strutted forward to receive his gift.

XXXXXXXXX

The present distribution was about half done, judged Sara as she looked around the room.

Wendy was clutching close her black and gold box of Valrhona chocolates and resisting Hodges' attempts to start eating them; Judy seemed delighted with a an intricately carved and painted wooden nativity scene; Super Dave was shyly commenting to Nick that he would keep his bottle of Nicolas Feuillatte champagne "to drink with Mrs Phillips on New Year's Eve"; and Ray was showing off his intriguing little haul of DVDs – _Ronin_, _The Da Vinci Code_ and_ French Kiss_, inspiring Greg to ask, "Hey, have you seen Jean Reno's new movie "_Armored"_?

Hodges, having given up for the moment his pursuit of Wendy and her chocolate bounty, moved to a quieter corner and Sara went over to see what he'd got. He was flicking through what looked like a good quality second-hand book and happily showed her the cover – _Sherlock Holmes: The Complete Illustrated Short Stories. _"It's not a first edition, but I love old hardcover books like these. This is great." As he paged through the book, he came across a cardboard bookmark on which a steaming teapot, cup and saucer appeared in front of a pile of books. Intent on a particularly charming illustration, he shifted the bookmark to the front of the book, and Sara wandered back over to Brass, wondering.

"Huh … Someone who knows my guilty secret."

"Jim?"

Brass showed Sara his present, Celine Dion's Christmas CD _These are Special Times_. He looked closely at her, pointing in mock accusation.

"Who, me?" Sara waved her hands in denial. "I swear, I had nothing to do with this!"

"Hmm … well, seeing as how you're such a stickler for truth, all that does is narrow down the possibilities …"

Sara pursed her lips and chose not to respond. It was almost a relief when Ecklie the Elf called out, "Sara … Sidle, Grissom … whatever. Sorry … Sara, Merry Christmas," and handed her a square red envelope, with a tiny sprig of mistletoe attached to the corner.

Walking back to her spot by the door, Sara drew out of the envelope a card with "Joyeux Noël" on the front. Seeing that, she shimmied back into the corner by the door to ensure a little privacy before she opened it.

_Ma chérie,_

_While I would love to be whispering sweet nothings in your beautiful ear right now, your present is not work appropriate, so you'll have to wait until we get home. Patience will have its reward._

_~Your not so secret Santa~_

She fought the grin, biting her lip.

"Hey, Sara, what you get?" As Greg loped over, Sara hurriedly closed the card, stuffing it back into the envelope.

"Uh … gift card. Full body massage at the Mandara spa, in the Paris Las Vegas hotel." That was actually fairly close to the truth, in a big-stretch-of-a-white-lie sort of way.

"But don't you think those places are full of germs?"

"Uh … I'm not worried about that."

"Huh. You sure _have_ changed. Yay you. So … enjoy!" Greg squeezed her in a quick hug before turning back to watch Santa and his strange Elf. "What I really want to know is, where's my present?"

Having safely stowed the card and envelope in a zipped pocket on her vest, Sara dared to look over at the gift distribution center.

Bad idea.

Santa was staring at her, and as she frowned back, made a slow deliberate wink with his right eye. A brilliant, true blue, she knew that eye. She loved those eyes. And the man they belonged to.

She could feel the red flush flooding her face, and ducked her head down to hide it. Luckily, Ecklie chose that moment to call out "Sanders! Santa can't have heard about your latest exploits and still thinks you deserve a gift."

Sara sighed with relief, leaning back against the wall to watch as Greg, more animated than she had seen in years, bounded over to Ecklie to claim his present. Sara chuckled silently and started humming "The true blue miracle" to herself.

Catherine soon wandered over, dabbing perfume on her wrists and cleavage, inhaling appreciatively. "Ah … nice." She showed Sara the bottle of _Paris_ she'd just received. "It's lighter than I usually wear, but has a certain 'je ne sais quoi', as they say."

Catherine's sultry French accent was surprisingly good; somehow Sara realised she was not surprised. "Hey, look at Greg!"

Catherine shook herself dramatically, laughing, "God, if he's like this now I shudder to think what he was like as a kid."

Greg was sitting Indian style on the floor by the heavily tinselled little Christmas tree, surrounded by the shredded wrapping paper he'd torn off in his eagerness to open his gift. He was alternately staring at the box and at Santa. Then he turned to squint questioningly at Sara.

"3D Eiffel Tower Puzzle Kit, huh," drawled Catherine. "I'm sensing a theme here, and I'm not the only one … what do you know about this, Sara?"

Sara put up her finger to delay answering Catherine, and pretended she was engrossed in watching Archie accept his gift.

Ecklie then bent down to Santa and together they rummaged in the nearly empty sack, both glancing up occasionally to check who was in the room. Santa whispered something, Ecklie nodded and then straightened up.

"Everyone here should now have received their gift, do you all agree?"

With a chorus of yesses, thank yous and one "you bet your sweet bippy", all concurred.

"Good. We'll make sure that the few people who couldn't be here get theirs. One last thing. You're all invited―"

A white-gloved hand on his arm stopped Ecklie as Santa stood up, unhooked his beard and pulled the hat from his head.

"Pretend laryngitis gets very tedious after a while. As Conrad was saying," a sweaty and flushed Grissom continued, "You're all invited―"

Sara laughed as general uproar broke out and people went to greet Grissom. He put up with it briefly before gently pulling back, beckoning Sara to his side, and getting everyone to quiet down.

"Let's try that again. You're all invited to a party on December 26th at our house." Grissom put his arm around his wife's waist and she nodded in agreement. "We look forward to seeing you all there."

Sara smiled her best smile.

XXXXXXXXX

"Thank you, Conrad, for being such a sport," Grissom shook Ecklie's hand and Ecklie muttered something semi-gracious before heading toward his office.

Sara watched him go, carrying his red hat and boots and clearly eager to divest himself of the remainder of his costume before turning to her husband, an amused smile on her face. "So, what happened to 'you can put invitations into everyone's locker and we'll distribute the gifts at the party'?"

Grissom grinned, glad it had all gone so well. "I'd finished wrapping all the presents and got bored waiting for you to come home?" He shrugged. "Then I was going to leave the issuing of the invitation to Ecklie, but I could see plenty of people were well on the way to figuring it out, and I was unlikely to make my escape incognito, so …"

"What I want to know," chimed in Brass, "Is how you got Ecklie to dress up like that, to do the whole thing?"

"I guilted him into it. I told Conrad that there was a unwritten provision in Sara's agreement to come back to CSI, that he had to pay for stealing my wife away. I called it the 'Santa Clause'."

END

* * *

"Tea and tattered pages" is a second-hand bookstore and teashop in the 6th arrondissement in Paris.

**Author's note** I was thinking about Grissom coming back to Las Vegas for a visit, and wondering about the most unusual way he could show up in the lab. And voilà, Christmas fluff!

Season's Greetings to you all.


End file.
